Partners in Arms
by Hera Ledro
Summary: It's another day in Chi-town - sun is shining, wind is blowing, and Limburger Tower is a-crumblin! Rain puts a damper on the bros' party plans though, and rather than go back to the 'Board, Throttle decides to pay you a visit. Of course, the only logical thing to do would be to challenge him to a root beer chugging contest!


The rumbling in the distance had become all too familiar to you at this point - the cracking, crumbling, clanging sound of skyscraper concrete and I-beams crashing to the ground (and, you could swear, a mournful mewling moan of, "Noooo..."). Yet another tower had fallen prey to the ever-bombastic Biker Mice from Mars. And...ah, there it was - the puff of dust breaking over the tops of the buildings outside your window. As the roar of the motorcycles and jubilated shouts of your alien friends shot past your place, you knew exactly what the plan was: root beer at the pop shop. Hell, you thought to yourself, I might as well join them. Your inability to do so was made crystal clear as you turned and saw the mess you had just been cleaning up, left by none other than the "bros" before they left for their mission. As you picked up the tile you had stepped on, you lamented the mess, but vowed that you would have your revenge.

By the time you had cleaned up the broken wall and the rubble through the entryway, it was late evening. Time always seems to fly when you're cleaning up after meatheads, you thought, stowing the broom. You shut the door with a click and made your way into the kitchen, opening that holy shrine that was the refrigerator. You pulled out a package of hot dogs and shut the fridge, quickly pulling a pot from the cupboard and filling it with water to boil. A fairly simple dinner, but you didn't exactly have time for big meals when you were single and constantly cleaning up after three rowdy men.

You had just put the hot dogs into the water and set the buns to steam when you heard a loud knock at your door. Frowning, you turned to the entryway and saw the door open to reveal a slightly-wet Throttle. "Hey," he said with a sheepish smile and that distinctive husky voice that would make the coldest heart melt, "Rain killed the plans, but I didn't wanna go back to the 'Board. Mind if I hang out here?"

You blinked and looked him up and down before reaching into the cupboard beside you and tossing him a towel. "Dry off first, and leave your boots by the door - you aren't tracking any water through this place when I just cleaned it." He chuckled and complied, beginning to pat his fur off as you turned back to the kitchen. "Want a dog?"

"Sure," he called back."

You took the package of hot dogs and the buns back out. "Three?"

"You know me so well."

You chuckled and slid three more hot dogs into the water and buns into the steamer. "So after all this, a little rain defeated the great Biker Mice from Mars, huh?"

Throttle's approaching laugh was your only signal that he was coming into the kitchen. For a loud, muscle-bound, and well-pierced biker, he could be surprisingly quiet when he wanted. Taking a seat at the table, he draped his arm atop the chair and smirked at you. "Well you know, we're still not acclimated yet so..."

"Big word for a biker mouse," you teased. "The 'dogs will be ready in a couple minutes." You sat down across from him and leaned forward with your elbows on the table. "You know, I bet it wasn't the rain. You probably just couldn't handle the drinks, ain't that right?"

This time the laugh was uproarious, and Throttle let his head fall back. "Oh man, you serious? Hah, I bet I could drink you under the table any day."

"Think you can handle my sugar tolerance, huh?"

"Not a high bar to jump!"

"It's on." You stood and turned to the living room. "I'm gonna break out the stash and you are so going down. Make sure the 'dogs don't boil over, 'kay?" You barely heard his affirming grunt as you headed into your living room. The 'stash' was plain as day through the glass panel of the small bar fridge you had beside your television, so you quickly opened it up and pulled the case of root beer out. "You're going down," you repeated as you closed the fridge and walked back to the kitchen, dropping the case of root beer on the table with a thud. "Down, down, down."

Throttle laughed and jerked his head over to the hot dogs. "How long they got left?"

Tugging a root beer out of its plastic ring, you popped the tab and took a swig. "Good stuff, love Mom's. Hot dogs are probably done now. You want the usual?"

"Got any onions cut up?" Throttle asked as you pulled the buns from above the steam and set them over a paper towel. "Modo was sayin' they were really good."

"Sorry, don't have an onion at all."

"No problem then, how 'bout ketchup and relish?"

You grinned and opened the fridge. "Now those, those I have."

The next hour passed rather quickly, laughing over root beers and hot dogs as Throttle relayed the story of their latest escapade into Limburger's territory. His latest quip had you slapping your knee in laughter and holding your hand to your mouth as you cringed, trying to catch your breath. "Oh god," you gasped, waving your hand. "No more, please god no more...I can't handle your Karbunkle impressions!"

He rasped out in a high pitched voice, "Oh but my goodness aren't you just dying to stop me?" You reached over and punched his arm, and he laughed and rubbed his shoulder. "Alright, alright," he acceded in his normal voice, "I'll stop. So how about you tell me what's new with you, huh? We don't really talk much out of missions anymore, we just-"

"Come here and wreck my stuff?" you quipped, cocking an eyebrow.

Throttle laughed with a small blush on his face. "Yeah, sorry about that...we need to get better at controlling ourselves."

"You do, but it's alright...at least while I can afford to pay for the damages. But really...there's not much new. Broke up with an interest a couple months ago but it wasn't that serious. You know though, it's really weird, I was so angry for the first few weeks. Now there's just this strange hole where the anger is."

Throttle nodded, an understanding smile on his muzzle. "Yeah, I know the feeling. Did I tell you that Carbine and I cut it off?"

Your jaw dropped a little and you blinked at him. "What? Really? Are you alright?"

He waved his hands to placate you, shaking his head. "Whoa, whoa, yeah - yeah I'm fine. It's been a few months for us too, but it was over a long time ago. I'm getting comfortable being single again though - bachelor life is pretty great."

"Oh yeah," you growled at him, a teasing smile on your face. "And what's so great about it, huh? A body like that, you could have anyone you wanted..."

Throttle stretched and looked at you, making a show of twisting his arms to pull at his muscles. "That right?" Damn him, you thought, trying to keep the blush from your cheeks. Damn him and those pecs, those biceps, those chiseled abs. "That an...expression of interest, hmm?"

You glared at him, the blush fighting you but held at bay for the moment. "And what if it is, hmm? What's a mouse like you gonna do about it?" You stood and walked over to him; he turned with you and yelped as you poked him sharply on his nose. "You're so-ah!" He caught you entirely by surprise as he ducked around you and grabbed you from behind, wrapping his arms under yours and behind your head.

"What was that?" he chuckled. You struggled against him, making him chuckle again. "What were ya going to say there, huh? I'm so...?"

You struggled a little, prolonging the charade before you smiled and said, "So...so...predictable, hah!" You lifted your foot and stepped on his toes, and he promptly released you with a yelp. You took the opportunity to launch yourself at him with a mock-roar and he let out a laugh, grabbing on to you. The two of you spun around in a tangle, each trying to get the upper hand in your death match for dominance. It wasn't until you had found yourselves in the living room that you both collapsed over the couch with a yelp. You took the opportunity and ducked out from under him, letting him land front-first on the couch before you jumped atop him. "Hah! Got you, you dirty mouse!"

"So you do," he muttered with a grin, turning his head to look back at you out the side of his eye.

You gasped and thumped his back. "You jerk, you let me win!"

"I did no such thing! Lies, slander! You can prove nothing!" he shouted dramatically.

"Apologize," you growled, thumping him again.

"Never!"

"Apologize!"

"I'll say no more!"

"Do it!"

Throttle quickly turned on the couch, sending you to the floor on your back with a yelp. You didn't even have a chance to get up as Throttle sat up and pressed a black-socked foot atop your chest. He wagged his tail-tip teasingly in your face, wearing a devilish smirk. "And where are you going, hmm? You aren't exactly in a position to be giving an ultimatum."

The blush on your face was rather plain now, and you pushed insistently at his foot. "Ugh, get off would you? You want me down here all night?"

You could have sworn that you saw a blush over his muzzle, but he quickly removed his foot and looked away. "Uh yeah, sorry about that. Got carried away." He stood and reached a hand down to you, which you took gladly. As he pulled you up, he asked, "I'm gonna go grab another root beer, you want one?"

You set yourself on the couch and shook your head, releasing his hand. "No thanks," you reply, willing your blush back down. "I'm good."

A snarky but sheepish smile crossed his face. "Not gonna drink me under the table, huh?" You simply shook your head and watched him as he left, closing your eyes and taking deep, quiet breaths to calm the heat in your face. You opened your eyes when you heard the clink of metal on the coffee table in front of the couch, and Throttle stepping over your legs to sit beside you on the couch. "Got you one just in case," Throttle said, gesturing to the can of root beer in front of you. "Figure if you don't want it, I'll just down it."

"Thanks anyways," you said. With your face satisfactorily cooled, you turned to him and cocked your head. "So you never did tell me why you and Carbine broke it off. You mind if I ask, or is that a sore spot for you?"

Throttle shook his head and wiped some excess foam from his mouth. "Nah, it's fine. In the end, we just drifted apart." He jerked his chin up to the ceiling with a wry grin. "Kinda hard to date when you're living millions of miles from each other."

"Fair enough," you admitted.

Throttle nodded. "We're just different now, but that's fine. People change, right?"

"That they do," you agreed. You gave his abs a cheeky prod, quipping, "Too many of those root beers and you're gonna change too. Would be a real shame to lose these guns!"

Throttle chuckled and held his vest open. "Take it in, bask in it; you won't see a set so fine in the solar system."

"I don't know, Vinnie's got quite a set!"

The wince on Throttle's face was as dramatic as his sob. He clutched his hand to his heart, a mocking melancholy moan ebbing from his muzzle. "Oh, you wound me! Thy tongue is sharp as a spear and deadly as sand squid venom." You smacked his stomach, earning a sharp laugh and grunt from him. "Hey, I'm allowed to be silly." He took another swig of his root beer and looked at you. "So how about you? What happened between you and your ex?"

"Well, we just weren't compatible." You reached over and took the root beer Throttle had brought for you, popping it open and taking a drink. "Besides, I don't think I was that into the relationship in the first place, just didn't know it until later. Had my eyes somewhere else."

"And where was that?"

You lifted the root beer back to your lips. "You," you replied, taking another swig. Your eyes widened and you nearly choked on the fizzy drink as you realized what you said. "Oh...god..." you mumbled between coughs.

Throttle gave your back a couple firm pats, but you waved him off. With a cocked eyebrow, he looked at you and asked, "Me?"

"You heard nothing!"

Throttle chuckled and crossed his ankle over his knee. "Oh, I definitely heard somethin'. I'm just waiting for the explanation."

You cast a forlorn look at your root beer. "Damn sugar..." After setting it down you turned back to him. "So you want me to do the whole cliché waxing eloquent about you thing?"

"I dunno about that," Throttle commented, tilting his head.

"Alright then, I guess...I guess that it's tough to come by honesty and integrity, you know?" You reached down and took another drink of your root beer. "Doesn't help that you're hot enough to fry an egg on."

Throttle cocked an eyebrow and gave you an incredulous look. "Really? Frying an egg? That's your idea of a pick-up line?"

Your reply was to shrug and take another drink. "Hey, I never said I was any good at this. You're just a really awesome guy. Smart, honest, tough, funny..."

"No wonder we've always clicked," he laughed. You took it with a smile and a thank you, but he came back and said, "Surprised you're not going after Vinnie."

You scoffed, grateful this that you hadn't taken a drink yet. "Vinnie? Oh jeez no. He's a nice guy and all but way too high-maintenance. Not that it matters though, right?" At Throttle's quizzical look, you gestured to the both of you. "I mean, you and me? Where would that go? You said it yourself, you're good with a single life."

"So? Being good with a single life doesn't mean I'm opposed to starting something new."

"Yeah but where would we go?" You gestured back to him and said, "I mean, you're going to want to go back to Mars eventually - maybe not now, maybe not for a few years, but everybody gets homesick."

"Nah," Throttle said, turning to lean back into the couch cushions. "I mean, I don't really have any ties there anymore. We brought water back when we blew up that asteroid, and last I heard they were carting more of 'em back to the planet for their water. I've got no family, no clan; Carbine was really my only tie there, and you guys are the only family I really have left. Besides..." He turned to you and jerked his thumb out the window. "Until Limburger's gone, there's no way I'm leaving. Only line of defense, right?"

With another swig of root beer, you shook your head. "Ah, we're getting too deep into this. But you know, I am always up for trying something new. How about you, wanna give it a go?"

Throttle frowned. "I'm...not against it, but..." He looked at you over his shades, holding your eyes with his stern gaze. "Protecting us from the Plutarkians has always been and always will be my priority."

"I'm in the same boat, right?" you joke. "I mean, it's my home planet they're invading - they're as much my enemy as yours, and it's not like I haven't been helping you guys out. So..." You grin and set your root beer down, opening your arms tentatively. "What do you say? Partners in arms?"

Throttle looked at your arms and then chuckled, opening his own. "Why not?" he mused, letting you move forward into them and wrapping them around you. "Partners in arms."


End file.
